


I can dream about you (if I can't hold you tonight)

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Geralt fucks someone while thinking of Yen, Longing, Shameless Smut, title from a hall & oates song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Geralt can't stop thinking about Yennefer.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	I can dream about you (if I can't hold you tonight)

He’s no stranger to lust. No stranger to desire. No, not Geralt. Witchers tend to seek that familiar longing for a warm body and that craving for release as much as humans do. Perhaps even more so.

He’s no stranger to pursuing women and yet he feels slightly out of place. He doesn’t know what to do with his hand so he lightly places it on her arm. He takes another sip of the ale and finally lets his fingers reach into her hair, it's much shorter than Yennefer’s. “I don’t bite,” she says with a smile and begins to unlace the top of her dress, his eyes following her deliberately slow movements. She draws in a deep breath as the cool air reaches between her breasts. She has a slight sweat to her, but Geralt was sure that the sheen just makes her glow even more. She smells of lilacs and something else- not quite what he longed for- but just enough for him to be able to close his eyes and imagine.

She turns around and asks him a question but he’s not quite sure what it is - he’s not much of a talker anyway. Geralt moves her hair to one side and with nimble fingers starts undoing the buttons at the back of her dress. The fabric slips softly from her shoulders, while his hand skims inside to feel her corset rise and fall as she breathes deeply. They had been apart longer than this and yet all he longed for was Yennefer. The sweet comfort of her touch, the solace of deeply knowing someone and being known in return. He didn’t know when he started becoming so sappy, he blamed it on his age - even though witchers aged much slower than humans.

She kisses a line down his neck, pulling at his leather jerkin and shirt until she finds his rough skin. A gasp escapes her lips at the touch of his scars, the feeling of raised tissue, jagged lines from fangs and claws and swords. It wasn’t a pretty sight, he knew that. She takes off his shirt and traces them with her fingers, slightly scared and slightly amazed. Some women found the scars endearing, others found them gruesome. She looks at him with big doe eyes, the question at the tip of her tongue, however she remains quiet.

Geralt pushes her back slowly until she lands plump on the featherbed. He wants to simply lose himself in her, she’s rather beautiful, with raven hair and crystalline blue eyes that in the moonlight almost look violet- almost. Yennefer she... she has a way of slipping into his mind in the most quiet of moments, in the most hectic of days and this was no different. Geralt had thought of her the entire day. He pulls her corset down, the front lacing was already undone and he tugged until he could reach in and pull out her full breasts. Letting his tongue slide over his lips, he bends his hand to watch his thumb glide over one hardened nipple. Bending further his lips close on her breast and she gasps at the warm heat that surrounds her. He sucks harder, teeth slightly biting, causing a moan to escape from her throat. 

She leans back with a giggle and Geralt follows her, settling his body weight in between her legs so that he could still ravish at her skin. He likes the warm feeling of her legs around his hips, her fingers carving through his loose hair. He keeps his face in the crook of her neck, not moving at all.

“You are far better at this when your mouth is occupied, perhaps you should heed that as advice and take proper course of action.” It was her voice. He was sure of it. He looked up and there she was. Her eyebrows raised, her hair falling in front of her in soft curls, and her eyes - her piercing violet eyes looking right at him. 

“Yen,” he hears his voice say, rough and distant.

“You never take my advice do you?” she grins slipping her fingers into his silver hair and pulling him for a brief kiss.

“How?” It felt like a dream, a trick - he had his fair share experience with magic but this felt so... real. Her skin was so soft, smooth as silk. Her smell was so clear in his nose it was almost painful. He wants to hold her, to kiss her. Geralt's heart ached with his member painfully erect against her thigh. He kept his eyes on her with the fear that if he closed them she would disappear.

There was a small noise in the back of her throat when he slid his fingers up her thighs to her entrance and his mouth licked her other breast. He traces the line of her slit with torturous care and kisses down the valley between her breasts. Geralt dips his middle finger between her folds, receiving a small moan of approval. He tries to find a rhythm with his fingers as he goes in and out of her. Yennefer spreads her legs to give him better access and he adds a second finger, curling them slightly just like he knows she likes it. He slides her slick up to her throbbing center and traces mindful little circles around and around, gradually adding more pressure to his stroke. 

“Don’t stop,” she says as she buries her face into his shoulder and bites his flesh harder than would be normal to stifle a desperate moan. He likes feeling her wet and open, his mouth leans on the ledge of her collarbone as she squeezes his forearm tightly. 

“Geralt I need you inside me,” she whispers in his ear and that’s all he wanted to hear. 

Biting her lip she waits for him to move into her, her stare dark and inviting. Only a few seconds longer and Geralt was pressing slowly into her, both of them sighing with pleasure when he filled her completely. Yennefer arched her body in anticipation as he slid back out and started again. Her pussy clenched around the hard length of him. She wraps her legs around his waist, lifting her pelvis to draw him deeper into her body and he starts to thrust. Deep, penetrative strokes which she matches with her own upwards ones. Geralt reaches out his hand to steady their bodies bringing her up higher, he watches her body tremble under his and loves the small noises she makes in the back of her throat each time she tries to breathe and swallow.

His hips were crushing hers, his movements becoming faster and frenetic. Yennefer felt when her legs began to shake and made sure to keep the pattern he had established. She drags her nail along his back and he was still sliding in and out of her, again and again. Her orgasm broke over her and he pushed her harder with each thrust of his cock. She bit back another loud moan, panting hard with her release while he kept going. A few more hard strokes and she feels the heat from his body pool into her own. He leans forward and kisses her, his tongue tracing her lips. Geralt slowly slips out of her and lets himself fall in bed with a sigh. When he was sure he was calm he looked back at her, and Yennefer was gone. 

“Who's Yen?,” she asks delicately propping her head on one elbow.

“Huh,” he replies absentmindedly his eyes turning to her; focusing on her hair, on her lips, on her breasts. The similarities were right there.... he knows why he seeked her out.

“You kept on saying her name,” she says rather sweetly. “A lot of men come to me when they're love sick.” 

He thinks about it for a moment and stands up abruptly. “I must take my leave,” he says in a clipped and low tone.

“So early?” she questions placing a hand against his back.

Geralt moves away with a grunt and begins to redress as much as he had undressed, placing the bag of coins on the table he says, “I need to look for someone.”


End file.
